


Four colours, two kids and one hurdle of thoughts

by Puddles_but_call_me_delirious



Category: Original Work
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Attempt at angst, Colours for abstract meanings, F/M, First Post, Kids learning how to act, Original Fiction, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added - Help me comments :(, and making mistakes, bits and pieces of fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:41:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25648210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puddles_but_call_me_delirious/pseuds/Puddles_but_call_me_delirious
Summary: Green, white, pink, red.In which, a kid tries his best, but finds himself tangled up.At first, it was abysmal.Then, it was terrific.Then, it was terrbile.The picture is painted with those four colours as the events which he now wishes to elude from unfold.Funnily enough, the word folding often gives the impression of orderliness.
Relationships: Original Female Character & Original Male Character
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	1. Green

**Gray** clouds painted the sky with their bleak hue, eliciting a reflection from a river that runs across the small houses and docks visible from the view of the Boy’s window. The wild, strikingly **green** grass fight the gloomy atmosphere, draping across the banks of the river and between the roads. Atop and beside the uncomfortably small pavements are various villas and typical houses. Not a single shadow can be found on these parts, except maybe a few people rushing to shelter for the incoming rain. Admittedly, the view from the window of this room is much too sublime. Living on the 32nd floor really brings some pros with it.

The Boy lets his full body concede to gravity as his perspective shifts 90 degrees from the window and adjust now to the **white** ceiling, though the force of his fall gets bounced back as the bed creaked its irritatingly loud joints. Like the emptiness of the pathways near his tower, his mind envelopes itself with nothingness.

Well, it tries. Commendable effort.

He chastises his own head from being hyperactive. Thoughts run amok, rampant and hasty, some spontaneous and some merely reused introspection of whatever. This time, the winner taking the stage turns out to be “ **pink** ”.

How amusing for the mind to pick out _colours_ , among vast selections of scientific evaluation and philosophical exploration, or simply just an analysis of the video game match that he lost just a few minutes earlier.

Maybe not amusing, but _utterly vapid. And ludicrous._ And, well, unsurprising, considering his head took him to places that can be described as…random.

The “opposite” of the suffocating **gray** dome ensnaring all directions of his living area, **pink.** Seems to liven things up. Roses? Can they be pink? Neglecting the lack of floral knowledge it has, the mind garners up a grass field, upon which gardens seem to grow, with **pink** roses. He makes a mental note to search whether pink roses were real.

Outstretching the edges of the garden are grass walls trimmed and well cared for. Fountains appear every turn to a large area of different assortments of plants and trees beyond the walls, though currently the mind places him in the rose fields. It intends to make him stroll to a giant tree in the distance. How reminiscent of fantasy wallpapers.

The image of a flower seen from above grazes his busily scenery-building head.

Everything else dissipates.

The scenery disappears.

In such seamless fashion that the Boy would deem outright cinematic, the pleasant beauty of the flower morphs into a hairband bearing almost the same shape. Someone dons the band as she ties her hair in a pony tail that is too familiar.

She turns-

The rim of her glasses a deep mix of magenta and **red** -

He has to stop-

An upheaval of nostalgia and riveting frustration shatters the already-eroding picture of the rose garden, replacing it with the picture of a pretty girl.

A small smile on her lips.

Cute little waves with her hand emanating the same sort of energy as that of a puppy.

_She owns, or owned puppies. Nice connection._

Suddenly, his head cuts to “her” more than 2 year later from the “her” of that memory, now the tiniest bit more matured, with a black-rimmed pair of glasses, laughing along with him whole-heartedly at an awkward stare after their eyes met. The mind then plays the last he saw of her yet, with another smile and another wave goodbye as her vehicle takes her away from his view, hiding behind buildings and other people on the road. Though only three weeks ago, he committed that smile to long-term memory with all the mental might he can muster, and succeeded.

They started out merely as classmates, though only acquaintances and no more. His bestfriend was their mutual friend. The other two were a pair of 13-year-olds who placed high academically among the population of their class, though he wasn’t even close. He paid that no mind. His attention was instead situated quite nicely on the _unusually_ smitten behaviour shared between her and his bestfriend. While he thought of the Girl as a nice person, he had not considered the possibility of his friend, whose targets of crushing is apparently the academically successful and “good” kids (with the Girl as the verification of the pattern), taking an interest in her.

Scratch the last phrase of that sentence, the one after the comma specifically. From the looks of it, dorky bestfriend’s interaction with the girl suggested _absolute head-over-heels-ness_. The funny thing was, or still is, was that she seemed to be reciprocating as well. Technically, he was watching a real-life romcom wherein the characters’ relationship seems to stagnate to simply prolong the screentime and therefore the revenue of the show.

An indescribably vexing start, but one nonetheless.

It took a few weeks of him picturing himself eating popcorn and watching the two flirt, masterfully compiled with heaps of beating about the bush for Dorky (names don’t seem to matter in this retrospective episode apparently) to drag the Boy into the video call to announce the newly formed relationship between himself and the Girl.

And so Mutual Friend became bestfriend to him, and boyfriend to her.

As if pulled on by that relationship, the Boy and the Girl became friends.

It honestly was bound to happen, given that both of them would come to him to complain about the other, whereas talking between themselves was without question improbable for two little 13 year-old hearts to handle.

He was a medium to communicate. And an advice giver in between. And in between even that, and above as well, he was their friend. Unwittingly performing his “job” would bring much lamenting out from his voicebox for some time.

The Boy celebrated a new friendship born from farcical foundations with a round of video games, in which he lost most of the matches.

_The Boy’s mind sees him standing inside the rose garden, once again constructed from the fragments of imagery that managed to retain themselves inside his memory. But there are no roses. Only stems and leaves. Strangely, he observed, there were no thorns to be found._

_He realized a tad bit late that vines were growing around him._

_The vines were a **lush** **green** , filled to the brim with resin and radiating life from a mere glance. They grew and grew, twisting and turning, binding him to his place so gently, so gingerly that he would not have noticed without eyesight. It was a pity to tear the strange plant slowly entrapping him, even if it was imaginary._

_Not like he wanted to move, anyway. The Boy stood still and let the stem and leaves snake around the figure of his clothing and skin. He wouldn’t know that if he did move, the vines would not have torn. Against even squirming and struggling as well as tearing apart the greenery, it would all have been for naught. Whatever plant grew here, it is so unbelievably tenacious and taut that he must be standing in the exact same pose._

_He didn’t care._


	2. Intermission: Summer

They began dating nearing the end of grade 7. The summer after can thus far be summed up in a single sentence:

The Boy is forced to be a therapist plus an intel gatherer for both sides of the couple.

“Far one walks to find me. State thy purpose, and I shall be of service.”

“Pwease tell me how to deal with him/her pwease I beg yu”

 _That might have been an exaggeration_ , he thought.

_Might._

His laptop is currently displaying flurries of complaints from Dorky and the Girl. He scoffs.

_Woe is me._

While he appreciates his friends genuinely trying to be nice to one another, doing it at quite a bit of his expanse is rather intrusive, though he fortunately enjoys it.

Kind of.

He laughs it off when he reprimands himself for betraying his usually idle and indolent ways, excusing it as “being able to push the development of a real-life romcom”. Belatedly, he acknowledges that as something “worth”. Furthermore, upon few are such a dazzling and amusing privilege bestowed. It is only natural that the Boy performs his duty of relishing it. Pretty well, actually. Hopefully this lasts for a good while.

…

…

…

Three weeks later, the Boy gets pestered by his bestfriend crying to him that his girlfriend was ignoring him. Some prodding conferred him a “I don’t like him anymore”. Which can only mean…

_They are gonna break up. They are bloody breaking up._

_Ha._

_Ahahahaha._

_Such good news. Wonderful. Excellent. The epitome of sheer brilliance. After all that effort and braincells used to craft the best possible advice and pieces of information about your boyfriend, you just decided to succumb to whatever bad traits there were. Well done, you. Well done._

A joke. This has to be a joke. The Boy mocks at his wishful thinking. He had tried to ignored that:

  1. First loves don’t last very well in most cases and
  2. young teens’ relationships are brittle and fickle. Tremendously.



This is sad. But well, that means the Girl can’t keep up with his bestfriend’s personality, he guesses. Then it’s better that they break up before they begin to hate each other.

The phone’s screen lights up the currently dark first floor as he walks down the stairs to reach the fridge. Milk cravings are to be satisfied. Momentarily.

“I hate him

He’s just, so immature!”, the screen reads.

_True. But wait, she hates him now. Too late, then._

“I don’t even know why I liked him in the first place!”

_I do, though._

The fridge opens, he imagines cool air gushing at his body.

“Anyway, I have to break up with him”

_Maybe telling him would help._

“I’m gonna try to do it soon”, says the Girl.

The empty glass sits on a table with a clink.

“Before school starts again I think”

He pours the milk from the carton into the glass.

This is the part where he shuts up and awaits dorky’s impending doom.

“Good luck then.”

He turns the messaging app off and raises the glass in a silent toast to the end of a relationship.

**End intermission.**


	3. White (1)

True to the Girl’s words, by the time the Boy saw his classmates again, his bestfriend was cursing everything he could identify within his vision. Because there was only the boy there, and he was the only other confidant of their relationship besides a handful more names.

His bestfriend, Finn, had quite a gloomy expression and is _very_ exasperated mood. The Boy mentally noted to brace for post-breakup mood swings. Then he realised he should have done this much sooner.

He walked up to the window from which his bestfriend was looking out. They exchanged greetings and pleasantries, though things eventually came down to business.

“I didn’t expect things to go south this early, Finn.”

“Well, shit. That’s how things fucking are man, I mean she told me her parents found out and they didn’t approve, like damn. It’s not like I’m a bad kid at all though? I mean, I am one of the top students in this class as well, so it’s not like I’m some kind of dunce or some dipshit delinquent or some shit.”

“Maybe they saw through that and find a kid with a bit of a language problem.”

“Fuck off.”

The boy chuckled.

“Finn, I don’t think you’re a bad kid. And if I say that, given I’ve seen the worst sides of you, that means her parents mustn’t be seeing anything wrong either. You can count that out.”

“So that means her parents are just against dating, and that I’m just overthinking this?”

“Probably.”

Finn’s hands suddenly reached for the boy’s throat in a joke chokehold, swaying him back and forth, back and forth. The boy’s own hands left the pockets on the sides of his uniform pants.

“God damnit, fuck everything. Why does it have to be like this? It doesn’t have to be!”

He sends Finn away with a push, but its force not nearly enough to topple anyone. _It feels uncomfortable to have a pair of hands around your neck_ , he thought.

“It is what it is. Things won’t progress once they find out their daughter’s boyfriend physically abuses his bestfriend anyway.”

“Again, fuck off.”

The Boy guffawed. Somehow, Finn joined in after a blank stare as well.

“T-This doesn’t, ha, make this any better, you know.” Finn squeezed out between wheezes.

“You’re laughing, so it’s better than you crying.” He said, traces of held back laughter quite conspicuous.

“Yeah.”

“But don’t choke me. Fun for you, not for me.”

“That’s the point.”

“My turn. Fuck off.”

More laughter.

The Girl came to her newly assigned classroom, but before she entered, she is greeted with a friend and an idiot laughing. A lot. She kept walking, but she met the boy’s eyes.

She nodded, and still carried on.

_You really want me to keep the truth to that **white** lie away from him, don’t you?_

The boy knew he had no right to tell her secrets, especially one he promised to keep. But he thought it was dumb for her not to just tell Finn that she fell out of love (or like?). The thought compelled him to unzip, but overcoming that was his pride and his respect of privacy.

Finn looked at him, dumbfounded.

“Buddy?”

“Ah, yeah?”

“You suddenly stopped, you know, laughing, and then you just stood there,” he said, as he motioned to turn around. “Is it something behind you, or-“

_Oh crap._

“O-oh.”

The boy turned towards the other side of the hallway.

Finn looks back at him.

It was his back.

“It’s fine, it’s not like I’m gonna go mad and break some windows or something.”

“No, but you will use me as a dummy to beat up after.”

“I’m not that unreasonable.”

“You think.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t know. You think. You assume.”

The boy turns around.

“That’s what _you_ think.”

They stared at each other.

And laughed. Again.

…

Class time finally arrived as the students settle in the seats previously assigned to them last year. They were receiving a new homeroom teacher for their last two years of middle school before highschool.

The teacher seemed like a nice guy, to the Girl at least. In his 30s. Probably the dry humour type. Pretty funny too. And he teaches maths as well. From the looks of it, in her last 2 years of middle school there won’t be too much trouble with maths. The extra classes affirm that as well. Already though, he seems to be swapping the sitting order of the class to control the less…cooperative students. She hears a faint voice at the back and turns back slightly.

It’s the boy, telling a classmate off for irritating the whole group down there. The guy probably just wants a bit of order in his area before things go crazy. It’s fine, considering the kids beside him are rather active.

She shifts her attention back to her teacher, who seems to still be swapping his new students’ seats.

“…please move to the front and swap seats with Tom.”

Huh?

Who?

Tom is the boy sitting beside her. Relatively nice guy, bit of a trouble maker, not terribly smart but not too dumb either. She enjoys his company as her deskmate. Her and another deskmate, Maddie.

_So Tom’s moving? That’s sad. Who’s sitting here then?_

She turns around to look.

It’s the boy.

Confusion rises within her.

Him?

He doesn’t talk much. He isn’t a delinquent. He’s not even a little bit troublesome for the class. Why is he at the front? Tom’s perfect sitting here, in terms of supervision.

Finn turns around and complains to the boy.

“What the hell? We have the perfect seats! Me above you, then we can work things out easy! Damn it, dude!”

_He sounds angry._

_Serves him right._

The boy just stood up wordlessly, packing his things up before taking the seat beside her.

“Hi.”

He began greeting everyone around him.

“Guess I’m sitting here then.”

Soft voice masking any possible dissatisfaction.

He turns to her.

“Hey there.”

She smiles awkwardly and replies with a ‘hey there’ of her own.

Apparently she will have to seat next to her ex’ bestfriend for an undetermined amount of time.

Good thing she’s on good terms with him.

“I didn’t quite expect this development.” He comments calmly.

“Me neither, I mean, who would’ve thought that you would be moved, and to here, of all places?”

“Our new homeroom teacher, it seems.”

“Anyhow, welcome here, I guess.”

“Why, thank you.” His tone was flat. Almost monotone.

“What’s with that attitude?”

“What attitude?”

“I thought you said that in a backhanded way or something.”

“I didn’t, sorry.”

“What are you, cold-hearted?”

“Very funny.”

“That wasn’t a joke, and _now_ you sound insincere. What’s the word…”

“Sarcastic?”

“That.”

“ _Why, thank you._ ”

“Ugh!”

She chuckles. Well, now that they’re talking in real-life and not through text messages, it’s like she’s seeing a new person. He just seemed like someone a bit hard to understand, being more mature than kids their age to her earlier, but now he’s just…enigmatic.

The Girl wonders whether she can ever wrap her head around him. Still, she thinks she’ll enjoy having him as a deskmate.

_The boy, ensnared by the vines, now witnesses the continuous growth of the grass walls in the garden. Perfectly trimmed and refined, it almost makes up for the loss of flowers. Such a pity._


End file.
